The Boosh Slash Drabbles
by Shoysrock
Summary: You pick the character, I pick the other five to slash in short drabbles! Tumblr prompt I made up. Included are crack short paragraphs from the fluffiest to the most perverted to the weirdest to the angstiest. A grab-bag of Mighty Boosh slash. Rated M.
1. Vince Noir

**A/N: On the Booshlr community of Tumblr I've started (still doing) slash and pairing prompts. One would send me a Boosh character (or related) and I would come up with a list of 5 character/persons of any of my choosing and write short drabbles for each. So here they are, I will upload as I will. There's going to be some innocent ones, fluffy, dirty, horrible, perverted...a grab-bag of strangeness. So hold on to your seats!**

* * *

YESSSSSSSSS

**1. Bob Fossil**

**2. The Crack Fox**

**3. Kodiak Jack**

**4. The Hitcher**

**5. Sandstorm**

1. "I...you sure?"

"Y-yes my little prince." Bob gulped, standing stock still wearing nothing but tack and hoof-boots.

Vince wasn't one to not hear of this sort of kink. But to see Bobby ask it of him, looking so needy and aroused, hoping he'd say yes...well, Vince couldn't say no.

Besides he'd always wanted a pony.

"Okay then." Vince sighed and smiled, watching as Bob squealed and jumped up and down, clicking his horseshoes on the floor.

"P-please m-my..._owner..._p-paint me 'Bluebell!'" Bob nudged over to the bedside table revealing gobs of used blue paints.

"Alright _Bluebell,_ you've got yourself a deal..._my little pony."_

And with that, he began to paint a cutie mark to claim Bobby as his pony. Forever.

* * *

2. "HOWARD!HOWAAARRDDD!"

"ehheeeheee, he can't heeearr you little man!" Groaned the fox, tying up the last of the ribbons.

Vince squirmed and struggled, clawing and fidgeting in his bonds. His wrists were tied together with handkerchiefs and one leg extended and rusty-cuffed to a heavy arm chair in the shop. It was unfortunate that he had been knocked out long enough for his clothes to get pulled off, panty hose on him and tied up again; now he was only away for the final bits to be pulled over his head, petticoats and finally the back laced up with the laces and buttons.

He was wearing something frilly and purple. How and why The Crack Fox had it...well, now Vince knew. This was one sick fox.

"I remember my buddy in the zoo-zoo...tellin me 'bout your friend Vincey..." The fox licked his face, delighting in how uselessly Vince kicked about beneath him. "He said...your friend...used to sleep walk..."

"W-what, you mean Howard?" Vince struggled still, grunting as he felt him pawing him up, feeling his back. He shut up his whines though when the needled fingers were in his face.

"Ohohohoh yes Hooooward...you see...he was bummin' me fox friend...rapin' him..."

_Oh...no...it WAS true..._

"So I think...I'll be the fox...who bums his friend as well..."

**"!"**

**

* * *

**

3. Vince pawed the bed, crying into the fur-pillow as the grizzly man removed his pants. He had tried telling him that he was a man; didn't work. He tried to scream; Howard, Naboo, nor Bollo came. He was alone by the light of a kerosene lamp, getting a bumming from Kodiak Jack.

"I looove you my little Vince-y..." The man panted, foul breath making Vince curl up his nose in disgust. A rough tongue molested his ear again, licking and biting his neck. Vince cried out as the tongue went over his hickies again, as if several weren't enough. A strange sound was soon heard. Opening his eye Vince saw a bottle just placed on the bedside; something translucent, dripping and labeled 'Aunt Jenny's Secret Recipe Lube'.

_...no...no...no...AHH! _"AHHH! OH! S-STOP IT!"

"You're so tight...you're a virgin eh? Mmmhphf...I can feel it..."

Vince felt it too. He could only cry even more, biting the pillow trying not to scream. He didn't want it, didn't want him, didn't want to get a bumming. But he was getting one now.

* * *

4. "Honestly? You're weeing on me?"

The Hitcher immediately frowned. Vince just stood, taking the stream of urine all over his clothes till it stopped.

"Oh, I guess now you're going to kill me? Well 'oward will be here any minute now and I'll get out of your greenie-meanie clutches right?" Vince was confident as The Hitcher pulled out a knife. Vince was very sure good would win.

Without a word the man-witch grabbed Vince and pushed him firmly against the wall. Vince squirmed slightly, but tried to keep his cool, gulping and assuming a poker face as the last of his personal space was invaded.

Suddenly he was turned around, his face crushed against the wall! Vince began to verbally protest, arms reaching about but the knife jabbed against his ribs so close to stabbing silenced his movements. He breathed hard, gulping again and just laid his hands against the wall, hoping the knife wouldn't go further.

"Get off...me..." He said quietly and muffled. The Hitcher crushed him, sandwiching his body between the wall and the black and red body of the villain. The knife was still there as Vince took the next moments to feel how awkward it was being so pressed up against a man...

"You're going to be good now hmm?" the dark voice murmured in his ear. Vince could just imagine it as a snarl. He felt the knife press deeper against him. Now the tears were coming. It was strangely more frightening than he thought...Something was darker here...

"Y-yes..." Vince whimpered back, glad the knife was removed. Hands were suddenly around his waist, and he heard the zip of a fly.

His own.

"Good boy." Hissed The Hitcher, pulling down Vince's pants. "_That's a good lad..."_

_

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_

5. "Now I can love myself!"

"Yeah you do that."

"But I still would like someone else to love me."

Vince was still staring at the _schuka shucka rattle shucka _of Sandstorms own ministrations.

"No thank you. I think I'll get going now."

"No you're not. You will caress me with your lady-hands."

They stared at each other, the sounds never ceasing. Vince bit his lip, getting a little more weirded out now.

"...I already said no..."

Sandstorm moved in closer. Quite fast. Moving in closer.

"No! Bugger off! Hey! Don't TOUCH ME that's...EWW! AHH! AHHHH!"

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**A/N: Hope you've enjoyed my 's MORE.  
**

**Shoys.  
**


	2. Naan Bread

**A/N: This chapter has a bit more fluff and a bit of sad angst, but also some dark fire-rape and using wet bread for masturbation as well. **

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Well well well, Naan Bread? Hmmm we shall seeeee what we can do this with!

**1. Old Gregg**

**2. Vince Noir**

**3. Extreme Sports Calender**

**4. Ramsey**

**5. Fire**

**1. **"You look mighty fine, wet little bread-piece."

He held the large piece of bread, his webbed fingers making the piece even more damp. Bits of lake slime and debris coated it, making the edible food appear a little un-edible. It was soggy from being dragged through the lake to Gregg's old hide-out, stolen from the pub's refrigerator because Gregg was hungry for man-food.

"I like em soggy." He talks to himself, still playing with the rubbery bread. "Makes it easier for Ol' Greggory to chew."

He pours some Bailey's into an awaiting shoe. Gingerly he dips the bread in and out, licking his lips. But instead of eating the now liqour-dipped bread, the naked fishman slaps it against his green chest.

He pushes it downwards and around, making strange bubbily noises as he slathers the wet bread around his body on the bed of pond weed.

But when he pushes it down, covering his scaly mangina and being rubbed repeadtily back and forth over the slimy wettness, Naan Bread was certain this was hell on earth.

* * *

2. "Are you all right?"

** "**G-go away." Nann Bread replied.

"Its alright little talking bread, I'm not going to scold you or anything." Vince didn't mind he was talking to the inanimate-animated object of food. The bread did seem mad and sad that he was pushed out of the circle of discussion. So when he went to rescue Howard, he took the bread with him by packing him up into the van first.

Now they sat together, Howard long asleep back at the flat.

"You wouldn't understand my pain." The bread with the face continued. "I'm always left out of conversation, and they eat my breathern! I'm made to be eaten or discarded when I'm a bit too moldy!"

"Don't you worry." Vince patted the bread on the plate, poking its ruddy little cheeks. "We'll take care of you."

"I wish I could cry." The bread forced himself an unleavened sniffle. "But bread can't cry."

Thinking a moment, Vince got an idea.

"Wait here little bread! I know just what to do!"

"Go on, leave me here." Naan croaked, pouting on the plate.

Vince soon returned. However this time he had a bottle of acrylic paint: blue to be exact. With a dab of a brush and a concerned smile Vince soon painted little tear drops under Naan's eyes. With the flash of a mirror Naan saw himself painted to look like he was crying.

"Well? Now you're crying. I hope that'll help..."

"Yes it does." Naan smiled and pretended to sniffle again. "Because now I don't feel like I need to cry."

Smiling together, Vince petted the painted bread.

"No one needs to cry. Especially not a naan bread."

* * *

3. The calender hung quietly in the Nabootique. Collecting dust. He hadn't been changed to the next page in several months. He's a calender, of course he would know.

That's when he noticed Vince had left out a piece of bread on a chair. There was a little dinner earlier, and the two shop owners had been dipping bits of naan into hummus, chatting away and crimping a bit or two. Calender would have cared but they neglected him so much he now was sick of watching them sell things, crimp, get raped by eels and all sorts of adventures.

It was dark now, locked up and empty. Vince always left messes, that was true, but this naan bread was different. He was sitting in his suit, moping. Much like Calender did all the time, every time, every month of his miserable existence.

"Hey." He called to the bread man.

Naan Bread looked up at Calender.

"Oh, hello..." He sighed.

Calender, hunched over waddled his way to Naan Bread.

"Well um...lovely night."

"Yeah I suppose..."

"Do they yell at you too?"

Naan's ears pricked up.

"How would you know?"

"I could feel we were the lonely sort, eh?"

Both stared at each other. Calender sat down on a coffee table for sale, his hands folded.

Naan smiled and sat up straighter.

"I think I've found a friend."

"You mean _we _found a friend."

* * *

4. Naan dreaded it. Every time. Every day. Why couldn't he get away? The place gave him a home, shelter and warmth. He had other bread to talk to. But now, Ramsey, always Ramsey hated him. Every conversation he tried to join, so happy to help and talk about the weather even! But he was pushed aside.

"Not you, Naan Bread!" He'd always say. He had no choice but to sulk away, trying to cry. But nothing came out of his eyes but flour, and that always stung him. So he never cried.

"But please! I want to..."

"No, get out!"

The first time he rebelled he still sulked away like the limp wimp bread he was.

"No! I refuse!"

Yet again a nother day. Slapped.

"I'M PART OF THISE FAMILY! YOU HAVE TO SHOW ME SOME RESPECT AT LEAST!"

"SHUT YOUR BREAD HOLE OR I'LL RIP YOU APART AND DIP YOU IN SALSA YA HEAR?"

Well that did it that day.

* * *

5. "Please sir it burns! It burns us!"

Fire's flame-fingers gripped the edges of the bread. He watched as the previously soft, pliable bread was starting to crisp where he fucked and held. The bread felt warm and wonderful to him, but soon it was crumbling into ash where he burned with his flaming hot masculinity.

"P-please I'm dying, I'm t-toasting! I'M TOASTING!"

Fire did not listen to those cries in the sort of way as in stopping. No, he was enjoying it, toasting the bread into black ash, making hot love to the screaming Naan Bread who strayed too close to his domain. Being fire, he enjoyed burning things; it fueled his desire, his body, his _soul. _

"N-no..." Rasped the bread, the flames licking him. He was almost dead, turning black like the emptiness of Fire's heart.

"Yes..." Sparked Fire.

"_Yes." _

_

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_

**A/N: Ohohohohoho**

**Shoys.  
**


	3. Bob Fossil

**A/N: This request was from my best friend who, like me, adores Rich Fulcher and his humor. Alas take warning, this page is rather sexual and disgusting to many. Beware of Crack!**

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For you, my lovely buddy.

**1. Bainbridge**

**2. The Hitcher**

**3. Eleanor**

**4. Vince Noir**

**5. Howard Moon**

* * *

1. "Ow, my nuts!"

This time it was his nuts that got hurt. Bainbridge twisted them painfully on purpose, enjoying his writhing zookeeper on the slab in the lab.

"I bet it does hurt,_ bitch._" He stopped, proceeding to push those flabby thighs apart. Bobby proceeded to squeal, keeping his legs shut unsuccessfully after the arousing yank of his BobbyBobBalls. Panting and looking down, or, well, over the hill of his belly he soon found Bainbridge was between them.

"T-take me now my little supper-party!" Bob moaned, even louder when Bainbridge grabbed his face, squeezing the plump cheeks in his grip.

"I want you to scream for me Mr. Fossil, is that understood, bitch-cake?"

"Y-yes mghorpf sir! Oh DixieCuppie...AHHH!"

Bainbridge thrust in, unlubed, into the unprepared sanctum of his bitch. Bobby did scream, wailing and wriggling. His arms and body were already strapped in, leaving his legs to kick and twitch. The powerful, painful thrusts of his lover continued unceasingly it seemed.

"It h-hurts Dixxxxxieee!"

"Tell me how much you want a kit-kat in your ass Fossil." Dixon grunted and slapped Bob's man-boobs. "And I'll be gentle."

"I w-wanna Kit-Kat in my assss!" Bob whined and cringed, finally sighing when Bainbridge withdrew, finally lubing himself up.

"Good chap Fossil." Dixon mumbled and spanked the trembling thigh, grabbing the flesh rudely as he continued, much to the shit-faced enjoyment of the Bob beneath him.

* * *

2. "Oh! OH! OOHH!"

It was unfortunate, The Hitcher would remark later, that he had been drugged by Bainbridge. Drugged with an aphrodisiac.

The green man slobbered and drooled, thrusting into the squealing blob of a man in his Rape-Chair. He panted, half-naked in his uncontrolled lust like a beast. Bob beneath him drooled as well, liking and aroused by the man-witch's scratches down his back as he was violated by a being he'd never dream of being with.

Of course, when The Hitcher would wake up tomorrow on the rug half-naked draped by a strange man he didn't know, he'd never have dreamed of being with him either.

* * *

3. "You seem to be the kind of man Eleanor needs, honey."

He blushed even more than he already was. There he was, finally on a date with a lady...a blind date nonetheless, with someone he thought was to be a man but...

"Don't be so uptight sugah-lumps..." Thick painted finger prodded Fossil's thigh, stirring her date into a startle.

"I'm sorry miss its just that...you look so much like me...not like my mom but like my cat's face when he got killed."

"Aww that's too bad." She cooed after clicking her tongue in a strangely attractive way. Bobby was now pinned by the encroached, thick, feathery form of the attractive older woman.

"You're trembling dear, let me warm you with my love-lumps." Eleanor groaned as she rubbed against him. Usually men would run away at this point, but, stuck behind the table in the secluded restuarant, even if he tried he could not get through with both their pudgy bodies stuck together.

If he tried.

"I think...I like you, miss." Bobby sighed and gave in, his hand dropping his fork to grab a love squeezin'.

"I like you too, Booooobbby..."

* * *

4. Vince's former boss panted like a dying dog as he preformed around his trainer. The hard switch of the riding crop would strike his thighs if Fossil didn't kick up his legs high enough.

"Come on then! A proper stallion's got to have grace! Stamina! And perfect form!" He would whip only every so often now, the flabby thighs jiggling with shockwaves, red from the strikes. In return he'd lift his legs higher as he pranced, trying to maintain his form.

"Enough." Vince barked and dropped the lead. Bobby panted and stopped, teetering and tottering in his blue pony boots, head hanging low wishing he could see his owner. If only he didn't have the blinds...

"Time for a rub down."

"Mpfhf!" Bobby neighed, muffled through the bit. He was lead to his 'stable', that is his bed, and he happily flopped down moaning at the pony-plug dug deeper.

"On your sides my little pony." Now Bob could see Vince, as he went to his side, kicking his pony-hooved legs. He aroused even more at the sight of his part-time rider in his riding outfit: boots, white pantaloons and red jacket. Vince began removing most of the tack from his pony, giggling mischievously at the evidence of bobby's enjoyment.

"You were a good boy today Bluebell." Vince left on just enough to admire and keep Bobby in his Bluebell state of mind. The hooves, the arm binders, the headdress and blinkers, not to mention the bit Bobby delightfully played with in his mouth. Bobby was hard now, squirming and playfully neighing as he watched Vince remove his black gloves, shivering with pleasure as his master caressed the side of his buttock. There it was, painted mere hours ago a blue bell. Crude but effective. Bobby liked it. Bobby felt _better _being a little pony. A portly, little pony named Bluebell.

"Would you like a reward?" Vince blushed, down on his knees besides the bed where Bluebell kicked and neighed. It was obvious, grasping his heat, that Bluebell would like to reward.

"Do you want to let me ride you, little pony?"

Bob nodded, moaning and thrusting to Vince's hands.

"I'd like a ride too, as a matter of fact." Vince smiled and coughed to get back to his composure, dismantling his pants with one hand, the other thumbing Bob's dripping tip. Bobby couldn't help but giggle out of his pony character.

"Down boy, down!" Vince laughed as well and dropped his pants, wearing everything but them. Clambering on top of his 'little' pony he began to slowly remove the plug. Bluebell groaned, almost whimpering until it finally popped out at last. Vince didn't want bluebell too uncomfortable, otherwise he'd have a naughty pony who wouldn't indulge him in these scene sessions.

Sighing Vince settled over his little stallion's staff, lavishing it with lube before beginning to ride. Bluebell moaned and neighed and, as he was trained to, picked up the rhythm at an easy 'trot' thrust. Vince was pleased...quite pleased, moaning and gripping the harness and reigns of his ponyboy.

"F-faster Bluebell!" Vince moaned out, head back as his hair bobbed from the thrusts they shared. His booted toes dug into the bed, and Bluebell could only moan as well delighting he was pleasing the master, and himself, encased in his Master's tightness.

"Neeiggh! Ohhhhfff!" He moaned in his bit, drooling slightly, tossing and turning. His discipline certainly paid off as he gave Vince deep, controlled thrusts upwards. Just was he was trained to.

Vince was pleased.

"G-good boy...good...oh..."

* * *

5. "If you don't shake that ass, I'll fire your...ass."

Howard bite his lips, dancing even closer and more vigorously in front of his boss. Of all the things he did to be humiliated, none was more humiliating to him than his monthly excursions to Bob's office after-hours.

"Ohh oh ho Moon, you sure know how to twinkle my toes!" Bob loudly declared. Moon didn't have to turn around to know he was whacking off to Moon's forced booty dance, so close to his lap.

Every month he would have to come in at 1 AM. Fossil would offer him warm milk, but of course he wouldn't drink it. While Fossil sipped and slobbered it down Howard would have to strip down to a pair of shimmery little blue pants, a matching fez and a small vest, looking like some nearly-naked harem boy. Indeed he felt like one.

Because after the dance, he would have to debase himself further.

"Enough Moon, get to work!" Bob pointed down to the rug in front of him, hairy pale legs spread.

Howard obeyed, resuming the all too familiar position. Resuming the all too familiar placement of his hands on pale thighs, on grabbing Fossil's 'little Bobby', and the all too familiar placement of his mouth.

What made it worse every month though, he began to realize as Bobby began to squeal and embarrassingly moan nonsense like usual, was that this was all _choice. _He could be fired if he didn't do this. But he wasn't fired for doing this. The fact he came crawling here to this miserable job, dressing up like a monkey or sucking his boss off in a little blue fez and pants was a choice...

"H-Howard! MOOOOOOHNNN!" Bobby thrusted, bucking as Howard worked his tongue in all the right places, sweaty hands grabbing his shoulders, touching him, bringing his head in so close his nose was buried in Fossil's groin and...

His pants became a whole lot tighter.

_That's why I keep doing this. _Howard accepted, taking him in all the way, his gag reflex long gone.

_Because I like it. And no one else will have me because of this._

_

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_

**A/N: No words...**

**Shoys.  
**


	4. Naboo

**A/N: A great booshlr from tumblr requested Naboo. YAY!**

* * *

_Nabooliola asked:_

_If you're still up for them ficlets...I'd love to see some Naboo (obviously) and if you paired him with Saboo I might explode from happiness._

Alright nabooooooliola, here we gooooo!

**1. Bollo **

**2. SABOO **

**3. Kevin **

**4. Eleanor **

**5. The Head Shaman dude Dennis**

**1. **Sometimes Bollo wished he wasn't gorilla. Sometimes he wished he'd appeared more humanoid, maybe less fuzzy. Sometime Bollo cried. Bollo cried for Naboo. Because Naboo didn't know how much Bollo loved him. Bollo wished he could hug him and kiss, Naboo the fragile insect from another world. But no, Shamans don't love the gorilla. They love The Familar like a brother.

But I do not wish to be a brother. I wish to be a lover. I wish my rough hands, would run through his hair, and touch his turban in a club. When we dance and I am not DJ I want to hold him and touch him. The little alien in my arms, my shaman, my only shaman. He has woven a spell on me.

I wish I could do the same.

* * *

**2. **"S-S…saboo…ooooh…"

"That's right you little….cunt…" Saboo paused on those words: Naboo did not have a cunt. Nor a dick. Which made him a bit distracted during the supposed-rape when he found out. The only thing the alien being had was an ass, and with that was all he yet needed to violate the little man.

Instead of a crunch, the sounds were _schlup, schlup, unf, unf, unf, ohhh sabooooo…_

Naboo knew he could do very little, tied up and naked. He was small and crushed easily under the bulk of his fellow rival. Plus the magic inhibitor on his ankle, black-market and expensive…well, it certainly proved how desperate Saboo was to make him his bitch. Yet being 'physically' devoid of sexual reproduction, well, yet again aliens can be quiet surprising. They still had a similar organ inside them that caused pleasure, plus…

"OH! NOT THERE! SABOO!"

"That's it Naboo, moan for me little man." He growled and continued pulling the man's earlobes. Naboo's face was a sight to behold; his eyes rolled back, uttering little throaty cries. His ears were turning bright red, the lobes being tugged and yanked with each thrust from the darker man between his pale legs.

Soon Saboo came, filling his enemy with earthling seed.

But Naboo moaned, writhed about and suddenly exuded a shimmery, blue liquid from his ears. Saboo panted and stared, watching the little bit spurt out and drip, unto the satin pillows, while Naboo sighed. His wide lips smiling in pleasure, eyes closed in relief, dripping blue goo from his ears.

Saboo would never be within 3 feet of him ever again.

* * *

**3. **It took a second for Naboo to realize he was in another part of the forest of the Shaman council. Then he realized he was tied to a recliner chair. His legs spread.

And Kirk, in his usual attire, staring at him.

minutes passed of this.

"Kirk?"

Kirk still did not flinch.

"Why am I naked?"

Kirk still didn't move.

"…are you…"

And then it hit him right when Kirk sprouted thick long, knobby tentacles from under his robes.

Kirk was an alien from a neighboring moon of Zooberon.

They weren't very controlled in their 'behaviors'. Nor was it known, since the great war 3 thousand years ago, that Naboo's people were on friendly terms.

As evidenced by the tentacles being a bit 'friendly' with him from the motionless form of the-'boy'-formerly-known-as-Kirk, the alien intended to get his revenge on his cultural enemy.

* * *

**4. **"Goin' my way, little man?"

Naboo turned his head, having just gotten done shopping for magical herbs. There was a large woman in bright red and white, smoking as she looked him over. He paused for the moment, wondering if she was a lady of the night or prowling for…_ah._

"I've been looking for a man I can easily…manage. You know, take for walks, baby up and carry in my purse like those little pig-dogs." She exhaled with a strangely masculine voice, the heels more like THUDDING on the pavement as she swung her way to him. Her strangeness naturally made Naboo frown and back of as the beastly-woman approached.

"I'm afraid I'm rather should be on my way. Lovely to meet you." He bowed and turned curtly to scurry off, but her hand on his shoulder was meaty and kept him back. He turned to her, noticing her eyes behind the sunglasses. She looked sad…lonely….

"Please little boy. Let me feel loved again."

So he did.

* * *

**5. **He felt no shame. After all, they were Shaman men. and what happens at 5 AM, stays at 5 AM.

The hotel bed could barely contain their love making. _Who knew, _thought he, _that such a little man could pack so much….fire…._

"Naboo! Woah! Well then!" He coughed and groaned, watching the pale body thump up and down his lap. Naboo was gasping little breaths, obviously enjoying screwing himself on the Shaman's manhood with delight. His hands pawed the chest for balance and support. His hair bouncing about with his body radiant and shiny in the moonlight streaming in.

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Naboo winked and purred, gyrating those clean-shaved hips making the older man grunt and moan.

"Like…un….gngn….what?"

"Do you wonder where I ejaculate from?"

"Yes I…OH! DO!"

"Oh you'll see. You'll see."


	5. The Hitcher

**A/N: My favorite character, The Hitcher. **

**Be warned: this is stuffed with sexual things. **

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**

And yes there will be urine.

pairings

**1. Howard Moon **

**2. Dixon Bainbridge **

**3. Piper Twin 1. in Maids Dress **

**4. Piper Twin 2. in the Fountain of Youth shower **

**5. Harold Boom **

**1. **"I told ya boy, a thousand euros. but nooo, you failed me, like I wanted ya to."

Instead of subjecting himself to the sexual pleasures of Elenor, no, Howard was too proud for that. He ran out of the shop after he explained it to Vince, too ashamed to let him coax him to do THAT for the money. He was now in an alley, hunted down from The Hitcher, backed against the fence of a dead end.

"I'm gonna have to punish you squire." The witch-man stalked forward, enjoying Howard's obvious fear. Soon Howard was against the fence, rattling it, screaming for help. But no one listened, no one came to him, and now he was surely trapped. Hands grappled him and tore him from the fence, pushing him against the wet brick walls of whatever building composed the alley. The slickness was against his crushed face, he gasped and struggled. Despite being a grown man he was still very much like a child.

"H-help…! VINCE! V-VINCE!"

The Hitcher laughed nastily in his ear, pressing his body against the poor squire. "Your girlfriend's too smart to save ya. Not when I'm gonna stick an eel up in ya."

"NO NOT THAT! NO!" His struggles continued, his hand reaching down to slap and claw The Hitcher's hand as well. His belt was unbuckled and his pants were being pushed downwards. His struggles only delayed the inevitable. In a few more seconds his bum was naked, goosbumps _across the Moon's surface _when The Hitcher pulled away. He stood, still against the wall, genitals freezing in the night breeze wondering what was going to happen next from what he couldn't see behind him.

And then the eel came. Right up inside him.

* * *

**2. **Bainbridge was always one to love taking luxurious baths. especially after a hard days work in the laboratory, making Platypeels.

He reached for the soap, humming a tune as he prepared to rub-a-dub-dub.

But instead he grabbed an eel.

"HITCHER! One of your blasted tarnations is in…here…"

Instead of flopping about, the eel gave a vicious smile and wriggled out of his grasp, into the water again, and between his legs and…

Howling at the sudden rape occurring, he soon began to squeal, kicking about in the bath, sputtering. It was going in deep and fast, trained by The Hitcher in the art of anal rape.

"B-BOBBY! HELP! I NEED YOUR…A-ASISTANCE!" His last word was a high pitched upon the quick contact with his prostrate. Shuddering he gripped the edge of the tub, bucking and utterly perplexed at how the eel's natural slime made it lubricated. He even saw the end of the eel wriggling about in the water. It gave him something to stare at, naked and manly in the tub, with an eel finding the propulsion to thrust in and out of his orifice. Soon he could no longer resist the slimy fish's ministrations; its gills were ribbed for pleasure, its head and mouth suckering, the suction and fishy movements…

"UNG! B-Bobby…oh…oh Bobby…deeper…n-no wait….s-stop it eel…ungh…"

If anyone found out how much he loved Bob Fossil, well, his evil career would be over. Taking a deep shallow breath, looking about the privacy of his bathroom, he sank back into the water, moaning like a bitch as the eel wriggled faster and faster, un-shamefully enjoying the eel rape.

All the while the eel's owner was video taping it in the towel closet in front of the tub.

* * *

**3. **"Boss it…tickles…."

The twin had bent over to dust the table besides The Hitcher's chair. It all seemed awkward enough being asked to wear this ridiculous maid uniform…for women…and ruffle-frilly panties. But to houseclean in that wasn't enough.

The Hitcher smoked his pipe, reading his newspaper like usual. Seemingly not paying attention to the twin he ordered to wear that dress. That he ordered to vacuum, wash and dust the den.

But the other hand was not where it should be.

The twin bit his lip, shaking as he dusted the table legs, his ass being so groped and thumbed by his boss. He figured this wasn't normal behavior one should do to their henchman, let alone a maid. _Maybe he saw some dust on the…the p-panties…yeah…boss wouldn't do…OH_

The Hitcher continued to puff his pipe, appearing absorbed reading. But his hand now wander to cup his henchman's sack. That's when he squeaked and leaped, clutching his bottom.

"W-why you doing this for? W-what do you want? Boss?" He said fearfully, pushing the petticoat skirts down as much as he could hiding his pantyhose man-legs.

The Hitcher calmly set down his pipe, turning at last to face his frightened and groped twin. The look in his eyes wasn't what he thought was 'absorbed'. They were intense. With lust.

"Bend over the table and I'll show you what I want."

Blushing, the twin did so.

And when he heard The Hitcher stand up, and push him, crush him down, and ripped those panties off, the twin definitely knew what he wanted.

Their work relationship would never be the same again.

* * *

**4. **"Come on then, I haven't got all day!"

The twin startled and proceeded to wash The Hitcher's back. He was already surprised he was naked in the shower with the other man. But, he was his boss, he should do as he's told, and what better than to run his hands over glossy green skin to gain immortality?

That is when he got lower with the soap. He couldn't help but blush and become…uncomfortable when the Hitcher pressed against him to let The Piper's thicker, shorter arms wash and scrub The Hitcher's chest. In fact he could have sworn he heard a cockney moan from the geeza, but the din of the shower may have messed with his hearing.

The Hitcher grabbed The Piper's hands when they were moving away from his groin.

"You know pipah…" He purred in a husky tone, a tone the twin only heard when he was enjoying a particularly good rape or bottle of wine. "I've always liked you…and you're my loyal henchman, correct?"

"Y-yes boss?" He answered fearfully, arousing more than he thought he would at the sound of his boss's voice. It would pain him to let him know how attracted he was, a little to his boss…he pulled back from The Hitcher's lower back so he couldn't know what was going on down there…and how much it tortured him that his hands, in the shower together, were so close to the prize, were to held by The Hitcher's own…

"Why dont'cha 'get to know' me better?"

With a gasp the twin found his hands being wrapped around The Hitcher's own erection, slowly rubbing about the length.

"B-but sir…I…we're…m-men sir…I…" _Oh G-God…_

"tis alright if I tell ya to." The witch groaned, rubbing back against the twin who now was freely giving a slopping wet handjob to him, without the help of another pair of hands. "Besides I'll reward ya if ya get me off. How about that?"

"Y-yes sir. Oh I'd very much like that…boss…"

* * *

**5. **"STOP IT! AUGH! You bloody nutjob!"

Harold should never have copied them. Never. Ever. What a stupid idea. What a stupid idea.

"That's right ya bloody wanker." The Hitcher waggled his tongue like a snake as he pissed on the unfortunate soul underneath his boots. "That's whatcha get for pretendin' to be my squire!"

"YOUR squire?" He sputtered, the urine now hitting his face. He shut his mouth, squealing and rolling his head about as he was coated with the salty fluid. _What, The Hitcher claims the REAL Howard as his…_

"That's right you stupid git." The urine now was aimed at Harold's pants, making the whelp buck and squeal, now soaking there as well. "Imitating my personal prey you gutter-scum. I oughtta kill you after I make ya look like you wet yourself real bad now…"

"D-don't kill me! DON'T!" The man begged once the urine hit his chest again. The more and more it rained on him on the alley ground, the more and more he regretted the business venture. The more and more he wished not to die bleeding in a pool of piss.

"Unless you do something for me. …..ooh…yeah…" Finally the yella rain stopped.

But he didn't zip up.

"I'll d-do anything to live! I promise to n-never imitate Howard Moon again s-sir!"

"You bet you won't. Because you're going to have ta…make me happy boy."

Blinking droplets of yellow from his face when he sat up, he soon realized what he would have to do. And why The Hitcher didn't zip back up.

"I've got a cucumber waitin' to get eatin' boy." The Hitcher cackled.

Harold Boom got on his knees, urine dripping off his pants, shirt and nose, and got to work like the coward he was.


	6. Simon Amstell and Howard Moon

**A/N: Someone asked me to do Simon Amstell (?) but I didn't know who he was. So I had to watch clips of him and compromised with two Simons and 3 Howards. This was one of my first requests, which is why the drabbles are shorter.**

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_Anonymous asked:_

_Howard Moon, since you don't know Simon_

Dont worry I've figured it now. How about I do two Simons and three Howards since I don't know Simon that well.

**Simon/Barrowman **

**Simon/Noel HATESEX **

**Howard/Spirit of Jazz **

**Howard/Naboo **

**Howard/Lester **

**1.** The bed creaked from their exertions. Two beings thrusting together, grunting and heaving like animals. A mop of curly hair flopping back and forth, while the sturdier man on top pummels into the skinnier frame of the man below. Together they cry out, one sounding more like squeals and the other a gay-like moan.

Panting the two rolled off each other on the bedspread, sweaty pale bodies glistening with sweat.

"I haven't even told my mum yet." Croaks the mop-head.

"Ahh Simon, a comedian till the end…"

* * *

**2. **No matter how much he squirmed he still couldn't break free. The bonds were as bland as rope could be. And he was being raped by Simon Amstell.

"Fmgph…fmmh…ger…geroohff…." It was no use through the white handkerchief gag; Simon was only going to 'get off' the way he wanted.

"Shut up you." He panted and smacked Noel's face, thrusting even harder into Mr. Fielding's hole. "No one can save you, not even your damned Charlie or Mr. Paisley or whatever unicorn-god from Mars you plan to think up!"

He still muffled his protest, trying not to whimper. Finally he shut his eyes, nuzzling the bed as he groaned and cried. Cried because all he did to be funny was make random words with colorful language. Living in fantasy.

No one was going to save him. Not even glitter-scissor the green-tasting monkey.

* * *

**3. **"NO!"

"Yes Howard, open dem bone-fish legs up boy."

Dark evil hands pushed them apart anyways. Young Howard pelted the spirit with his sunglasses, his hat, his anything upon him. But still to no avail his pants were torn right off.

"Just relllllllax soul brother…" The skull-lips cooed, slithering upon him, white suit against beatnik-sweater. "It'll feel like a nice warm kitten…up inside you….fucking you till the dawn comes…"

* * *

**4. **He didn't know it yet, but things had gone terribly wrong.

The aphrodisiac took its toll, reaching its climax through Howard's bloodstream. The little man, whimpering and moaning, took the full front of Howard's thrusts into his harem-style pillows. Even a great Shaman like Naboo himself could not stop the potion that was slipped into his coffee.

He should have never left it out for sale on the counter. Vince spilled it by accident, into their coffee. Before he could do anything, well, Howard took a sip. Within no time Vince had ran leaving only himself to be picked up like a baby, slammed into his quarters upstairs, and become raped.

Howard the beast heaved and snarled, running feral hand sthrough the clean-cut hair of his prey. Naboo squealed and yelped, clawing the bed as he aroused by his own mysterious alien ways, finally understanding the pleasures of the posterior. Howard's length pounded his small frame, shaking him to the core, waiting for Howard's poison to pass.

Waiting for his release to come.

* * *

**5. **"L-Lester…nhgg…."

"Shh my little jazz baby. Everythin's going to be awwwright."

The older man moved his jazzhands deeper into Howard's pants, finding the prize. Howard cursed to himself, hating the wonderful feel of those weathered horn-playin' digits pushing the thumb tabs of his _clarinet._ It sickened him that the only true satisfaction he got, was with another of his kind; so rare the only one around. An old blind man who thought he was black, and was now giving him a handjob in the lonely corridors of his apartment.

Shameful moans.

Shameful moans, like a trumpet solo lone and naughty in a speakeasy.


	7. Noel Fielding

**A/N: Yeah, its going backwards. But this was the first one I did. Small and shorter but still, Noel and Jedward...worth it?**

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_Anoymous asked: _

_NOEL FIELDING. For the five fic thing. :D_

BECAUSE I LOVE YA BOY

Pairings:

**1. The Hitcher**

**2. Julian Barret**

**3. Matt Berry**

**4. Charlie**

**5. Jedward**

1. Noel squirmed underneath The Hitcher. It was bad enough figuring out he was actually real. It was worse knowing that in his imagination and art, he was always far more sinister, abstract and vile.

Well there he was, being pissed on, a knife at his throat by the green polo-fiend. It was quite humiliating really, terrifying to say the least. Sure he played the part, but now being REALLY knifed, REALLY peed on, by his OWN creation…

* * *

2. "Well this is…interesting…"

Barratt was lounging casually on his sofa. His wife and kids were out of town. They were supposed to be working on the movie. But yet here he was half naked. They scarcely sat down to write some songs together when Noel signaled him with a firm grip on his ass. 10 minutes later Julian certainly signaled he was prepared for the visit: he made him wear a dress before they could get down to the long-awaited hanky-panky.

* * *

3. The awards went well. Well enough it seemed though. He did his bit with Matt and all seemed fine. they met up at the pub late after the show, drinking their beers.

Soon they were lollygagging their merry English way home. Laughing, tittering and having a jolly laugh or two like tipsy fellows would.

And that's when Matt kissed him.

"Flippin' hell Matt!" Noel breathlessly hiccuped, staring the bearded comedian in the face. He had been pushed to the alley wall, his lips smothered for a moment by the man. "What…what was that about?"

Silence.

"Forget it." Matt turned, pushing him away. Clearly troubled and a bit drunken.

Drunken enough to act out on touching someone…he could never have.

* * *

4. Sweet dreams. Pleasant dreams. Pleasant dreams no more.

He woke up with a start. Blinking, he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. At least if you count a pink blob by his bedside ordinary.

"….what….?" Noel scrunched his eyes, squinting to indeed notice it was, in fact, Charlie. A fictional character. Who's yellow eyes were glaring unfavoribly in his direction.

"I've waited a long time Creator." The beast rumbled in his gravely voice. _Just as I imagined…_Noel thought. "Its been a long time since I was in the show…your show…_our _show…"

It was then and there that Mr. Fielding knew he might be murdered tonight. By an imaginary character. By suffocating on gum.

* * *

5. "That's right Noel…who's singin' NOW?"

He cried out with each strike. His cries however were music to their ears. Each one paddled a buttock, striking with Jedward-themed paddles, in their Jedward-themed bondage gear, with their Jedward-slave.

"Naughty little pedophile aren't you? Bloody wanker!" One chimed in, enjoying their fantasy as they kept him unwillingly over the dressing chair. Tied to it. After-hours.

"I'm n-not! Stop this game! OW!" Another strike, to his back. His thighs were kicked, painfully leaving another bruise.

Jedward definitely weren't stopping.

"You're a pedophile and you know it." They simultaneously licked their lips, bringing out a tube of bacon-lube.

"I w-was making a joke…."

"We know. But don't tell us. It'll ruin the fantasy, you dirty little skinny bitch."

And with that, they made him an official Jedward-Bitch.


End file.
